


Good Morning, Good Morning...

by Samarkand12



Series: The Heterodyne's Girl [4]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Paris, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Flirting, Slice of Life, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12
Summary: After a month in the City of Lightning, Agatha might be getting the hang of this.Except her sexuality.





	Good Morning, Good Morning...

**Author's Note:**

> One section of this fic would not be possible without phoenixfriend's enlightening advice on fashion and clothes in general. Any mistakes made are either mine or Agatha's as she feels out how she wants to "be".

**6:00 AM**

The sleeping alcove had several shelves built into the back wall. They groaned under the weight of penny sparklies, _bandes dessinées_, and textbooks. On a section of shelf near the head of the sleeper covered toes to nose by a blanket was a contraption akin to a cuckoo clock mated to a balance scale. It had the rough look of something crafted on a workbench rather than anything from a store. On one side was a steel boiling vessel with a steel tube arching over the top of the wooden-cased Mechanicsburg jaegerclock. A mug with a mesh tea-ball filled with black tea was on the other beneath the end of the tube. A miniature icebox and a bowl of sugar cubes rested beside it.

The hour hand snapped to the six o'clock position. What would have usually tripped the alarm instead activated a piezoelectric igniter that lit a butane burner under the boiling vessel to life. Water simmered. Then steam rushed up through the pipe to condense to just below the boiling point at the spout end. The balance arm linking mug to boiler slowly tipped to the mug's side. With a click, the butane burner was extinguished right before it boiled dry. Another soft click preceded a set of tiny skull-encrusted castle gates to snap open. A miniature jaeger figurine gamboled in a jerky rhythm as it cried out "VE HUNT!" The cacaphony only ended when a hand lifted the mug off its little platform. The covers slid off a curvy female form clad in a cotton nightgown trimmed with lace. Yawning, she left the tea-ball in for a minute while she poured in cream from a small pitcher in the icebox. Fishing it out, she added a sugar cube before stirring it with a spoon. Bliss spread over her features as she drank tea in bed.

Something that she had made worked.

That was always a great way to start the day.

**6:15 AM**

Agatha missed Lilith's wood-fired stove. It had been a beast to keep fed. But trying to cook in the little corner with its two electric burners and postage stamp of a counter-top was like trying to fit Mr. Tock in a mimmoth skin. Oh well. One managed. Blade flashing, she diced onions and bell peppers and mushrooms and ham on the cutting board while the oil warmed in the skillet on one burner. The paprika-spiced sausages were already sizzling in the pan on the second. Agatha flicked the sausages over to the other side with a fork before scraping the contents of the cutting board into the skillet. The electric kettle plugged into the lone outlet in the wall behind the counter burbled. Whisking milk into the eggs, Agatha weighed out--always by weight, never by volume, as _Bean There, Done That_ insisted--Parisian-roast coffee beans into the hand-mill. A hum escaped her lips as she balanced tasks with time in a sequence to ensure everything was still warm when it hit the table. 

A jolt went through her when a hand rubbed in circles through the thin cotton of her nightgown at the small of her back. Warmth pressed against her left side from shoulder to thigh. Sophie plucked the coffee mill out of her grasp. Where Agatha was a frumpy mess, Sophie was a perfectly coiffed lady of the manor in a blue silk house-robe arranged in such a way that the wrinkles could slice through armor. Blue eyes sparkled as she kissed Agatha good morning on the cheek. How did she managed to sneak up on her every time? Oh! She had to slice the tomatoes and flip over the omelette and dump the slightly singed sausages into two equal portions of a pair of plates while the kettle whistled and the omelette was done so she sliced it into equal halves and whoops almost forgot sprinkled cheese over the top and breakfast had been made! Without needing to use the fire extinguisher in its rack on the wall just to her right. Agatha reached out to twist the goose-neck kettle off the hot-plate that it was locked into.

The headache that she had been holding off slammed into her brain. It was not nearly as bad as the searing migraines she had suffered most of her life. It was more as if a giant's hand were pressing down on her mind. Everything went hazy and grey. Hot water nearly spattered everywhere before it felt like invisible hands caught her. Heh. Agatha sometimes joked that there was an invisible servant like the old tales of the wizard-sparks haunting the apartment. She certainly had to cook for three given her own increased appetite and Sophie's ability to put it away. Agatha found herself slumped in the chair. Two clinks announced the plates set on the table. Sophie rubbed circles on Agatha's temple while she poured water just off the boil into the _piston_. The coffee grounds that her friend had ground while Agatha attended to the cooking swirled under the stream of water filling the cafetiere. Sophie then speared a sausage to bring it to Agatha's lips.

"You poor thing," Sophie said. "I lure you into my clutches to make you do all the cooking and shopping. How you must suffer."

"If I didn't do the cooking," Agatha said, after swallowing, "all you would live on would be café coffee, croissants, and witty repartee."

"Don't forget the grapes hand-fed to me by those enslaved by my beauty." Sophie slid into the chair opposite her. She cut into her omelette. "Although one does admit that this hearty peasant fare does sustain one through the day."

"Adam was a blacksmith. Lilith's cuisine tended towards being able to fuel a full day at the forge." Agatha began devouring her own meal. "I never ate much of it except on weekends. I was always rushing off to school or off my appetite from the headaches."

"That was the worst one I have seen you suffer since your first week in Paris." Sophie gently broke the crust that had formed on the grounds. "Do you need to take a day off? If you do, then I would love to give you a tour of Le Marais."

"That one was because of"--_stimulation_ \--"thinking too fast. Gil's engine is arriving today."

"The one from his flying engine, yes?" Sophie depressed the plunger of the _piston_ to screen out the grounds. "The one he sent you detailed blueprints of."

"Apparently, the changes I suggested really helped." Tearing off a chunk of baguette, Agatha slathered it in jam before wolfing it down. "It was really ingenious. But so over-complicated. Once he stripped out those superfluous parts like the balance arm and the heat dump--"

"Agatha. You're putting yourself in danger." Sophie decanted her coffee into a mug. "I am experienced with young men with the Spark. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach is flirting with you. That engine is a courting gift."

Agatha's jaw hung open with a tomato slice halfway to her lips.

"I for one would follow your torrid affair with him with deep interest." Sophie's gaze was serious despite her teasing words. "It would also get political. The heir of tyrants who grip Europa in their ever-clenching fists do not marry the adopted daughter of a blacksmith and a piano teacher. Mistresses, perhaps--"

"I don't want to become his mistress!" Agatha exclaimed. "I'm not interested in politics or marriage or any of that. All I want to do is prove I can attend classes at the Institute and enjoy Paris."

"When you send thanks via the man's valet," Sophie said, "emphasize your deep respect and gratitude for Herr Wulfenbach as a patron of SCIENCE! Do not use the word 'friend'. I've read some of your letters to Herr Wooster. You are too informal. Adopt a slightly cooler tone."

"Will that work?" Agatha asked. "I do not want to insult Gil--Herr Wulfenbach."

"It should do until you find a lover." 

Agatha stared at Sophie as she casually dissected her omelette with precise cuts.

"You are a blossoming young woman of fine looks and finer mind in Paris," Sophie continued. "It's spring. There are likely dozens of students at the university who are interested."

_Are y--_

"How can I tell?" Agatha throttled down the temporary bout of insanity. "I missed Gil's, ah, interest."

"Well, there is the artful game of seduction." Sophie took another appreciative sip of her coffee. "In your case, I suggest you approach the potential object of desire and ask them if they would like to join you at café for a chat."

"You mean like you and I when we meet at the Clever Robespierrete." Agatha laughed. "Ho! You've been training me how to date on the sly."

"Yes. Just like that when we meet." Sophie took a bite of the muffin. "Then let events take their course."

"Yes." Agatha glanced at the clock over the _escritoire_. "Oh, look, I am running late!"

By the time Sophie looked up, Agatha's plate was scraped clean and the bathroom door was closing with a slam.

++++

**6:23 AM**

A shower curtain was pulled into place around a claw footed tub.

Trembling hands screwed a rubber hose with a showerhead at the other end onto the faucet.

Then the COLD tap was spun as far as it could go.

+++++

**6:35 AM**

A bracing cold shower in the morning fixed everything.

Agatha forced herself not to grab clothes at random from the drawers built into the wall underneath the sleeping alcove. Sophie has trained her better than that. _A lady must never dress in haste. Better to be fashionably late than unfashionably attired._ That first true day in Paris had been both the most humiliating and the most instructive one that Agatha had ever experienced. Sophie had forced her to stand before a mirror while she verbally tore apart Agatha's finest outfit in a tone that would have delighted Silas Merlot. _You say these were given to you as a gift by your parents? It shows. Your adoptive parents were constructs, yes? It would explain why_ _this outfit is literally tailor-made to conceal anything distinctive about you. _Sophie's gentle hands on her shoulders has not softened the sting of her criticism. _Look at how the skirt and vest merge together with no shape or line to them. It leaves you characterless._ Fingers had tugged on the sleeves of her blouse. _Badly fitted. I have seen nun's habits with more flair._ Sophie had reached about to touch the front of her tweed vest. _Are you ashamed of what is beneath that? _ The heavy tweed dress had been flicked disdainfully. _Did she buy this out of the drapery department? Or did she skin off the upholstery of an old couch?_

Then Sophie had spun her about to look at her with those brilliant blue eyes.

_Smart girls dress smart. And you are a very smart girl._

Agatha laid out her outfit for the day on her bed. _A true lady garbs herself for the day with the same care a knight readies himself for battle or tourney._ Agatha tugged on a fresh pair of lacy white drawers cut in the daring fashion of a Parisian _flanneuse_. They ended at upper thigh rather than her old knee-length pantalettes. Next came the bustier of matching white lace and ribbon. Agatha had refused to wear a corset. Lilith had always opposed them as being unhealthy. If one needed to alter one's figure, then better a bodice worn over one's clothes than a contraption of cloth and steel that tempted one to mangle one's internal organs in pursuit of fashion. Her new bustier did have lacing in the sides that crisscrossed in front to assure a tight proper fit. The bust part also has been cleverly fitted by Sophie's corsetier to make shoulder straps superfluous. Sitting on the bed, she drew on the knee-high green and white striped socks. Every woman had her fashion hill to die on. These were hers. On her feet went steel-toed boots with a mild point and a low heel suitable for everyday wear and the lab. _Tres fou, tres chic_.

_You have such amazing shoulders. Emphasize them. Define them. _ Agatha wriggled the blouse on over her head. The only buttons were the one at the collar and three below that could be unbuttoned to give relief if overheated. _Along with a chance to let someone you fancy see--_ Cold, bracing shower. Hurricanes. Though bought _pret-a-porter_, the blouse was tightly fitted to her body with a hint of leg-of-mutton at the upper arms and shoulders. The collar was half the height of the ones on her own blouses with a touch of lace around the top edge. The same lace decorated each of the cuffs. About her hips went a spring-weight woolen skirt in hunter green that she cinched in place with a gold-dyed leather belt. _You have a figure that much of Society would kill for. Hiding it is a crime. _Agatha gave an experimental twirl. The cut and drape of the skirt had it flare out dramatically, revealing the golden ruffles sewn onto the hem that suggested petticoats. She had no intention of wearing the dratted things. Over the blouse went a matching hunter-green vest with wider lapels that dipped in a sharp V close just beneath her bosom with a single row of golden clasps that continued to the waist. 

Agatha reached under the collar to settle the locket and its new, stout chain around the outside. Below it, she centered a _jabot_ of green and gold lace and ruffles held in place by the pin on the back of the locket. _Try different things to make an outfit pop. _Brushing her hair out, she tied it up in the back with a green ribbon edged in gold into a ponytail. Sophie was always after her to visit a proper hairdresser. Green eyes glanced upwards into her reflection in the mirror hung on the back of the bedroom door. That tuft that had defeated curling irons, chemicals, and scissors poked up into the air like the Awful Tower. No, she was going to keep it low-maintenance. There was no defying that. Agatha did not even look at the compact and make-up that someone had put very prominently on her pillow. She hated "war paint". It was always demanding to be touched up. She simply did not have the time for that nonsense. Nor did she have the time for gloves--begging to be lost--or other fripperies.

But--

Agatha's fingers hesitated over her usual glasses with the thick, over-large lenses that had been provided by the same optometrist that had provided Lilith with the glasses that had concealed her mismatched eyes.

She instead picked up a hardened-leather case that she had picked up last evening.

++++

**6:45 AM**

Sophie gazed upon Agatha as she stepped out.

She stared at the half-moon lenses in the delicate gold-wire frames perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, they're wonderful!"

++++

**6:50 AM**

"What day is it, Agatha?" Sophie said, helping her into a tightly-fitted coat that flared out over her skirt to end at the knee.

"It is a glorious day for SCIENCE!" Agatha sang back, adjusting the tilt of the smart rifle-green trilby with a subdued gold silk band on her head.

"Now, which are you in the mood for today?" Sophie held up two death rays. One was cased in black with gold filigree, the other in bronze with rust-colored fins.

"Let's go with the dark one today," Agatha said, tucking it into a holster at one hip concealed within the belt.

"Tricky. You are an autumn." Sophie smiled. She turned her cheek. "But you can make it work. Now, a kiss for _au revoir_ until we meet again, _oui?_"

Every day, she air-kissed Sophie on the cheeks like friends did.

++++

**6:53 AM**

Gotterdammerungshekissedheronthelipsnottoolongitwasanaccident.

Agatha almost tumbled down the three flights of stairs to the front door.

Becoolsheknowsyoudidn'tmeanitthatway.

She fought off the giant's palm pressing against her frontal lobes.

Can'tbelate.

At the corner, she shoved the steel punch-card of her VeloCité transit pass into a box on a lamp post.

DearArdsleyIthinkImightbesteeringtoport--

From the slot that opened in the pavement, a mass of steel tubing and rubber tires rose up that unfolded into a lady's-frame bicycle.

Smoke squirted from the rear tire as Agatha frantically pedaled away.

++++

**7:00 AM**

**   
** "My lady, are you sure--"

"Damn you, Varpa!" Seffie snarled, up to her neck in cold water. "More ice!"

**Author's Note:**

> The device that Agatha cobbled together is based on the early (and rather dangerous) forms of a device that is known as the "teasmade" in Britain. 
> 
> "VeloCité" is this story-series fanon for an integrated payment system for Europan Paris' vastly-more-extensive public transit system: "l'enfer" (what we would call the "metro" of OTL Paris), a bikeshare system where you can summon a velocipede at most street corners for short-distance trips, above-ground tram-trains going into the _petit couronne_ of towns and villages surrounding Paris, etc.


End file.
